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“Oh, come on, Commander!” the voice came from the open door. “I’ve got infrastructure falling apart, and your engineers are working on a parking lot!”

Grace turned to Meav. “Maybe we should come back later.”

“We have to have somewhere closer to the main base to put the ready shuttles!” Jeff Wilcox’s voice answered.

“With the approach pattern right over downtown?”

Meav shook his head. “They’ll be done in a few minutes,” he assured the ensign. “Tayanti never keeps her head of steam for long.”

“Look, we can route the shuttle approach and departure lanes out over the bay. It’ll affect your civilian air traffic, but I’m sure we can work something out with the controllers there.”

“Well, that’s something. Maybe you could assign a team to help out with the street maintenance?”

“Do you see these?” Wilcox asked. “These are requests for engineering teams from damn near every mayor on the planet! All I can do is forward them to the Federation Development Aid Agency because we don’t have enough assets available. The only reason you’re getting the help you are is the fact that Citadel is hosting the base. Mayor, our priority is turning this base into a full Starbase in as short a time as possible, while building new planetary defenses and finding out what it is in your plants that do what it does to other species. I’m stretched to the limit!”

There was a heavy sigh. “Could you at least send someone to teach us how to make that plascrete you folks use? It’d make the streets last a lot longer.”

Meav smiled. “She’s winding down.”

“I’ll talk to Commander M’Rowri or Captain Baier and see if they can spare someone. That’s really all I can promise, Mayor.”

“I guess that’ll have to do. Thank you for your time, Commander.”

“We try to be good neighbors, Mayor. There will always be someone here you can talk to. Have a good afternoon.”

A moment later, a remarkably young Intaran woman appeared at the door, Wilcox behind her.

The two Starfleet officers, the Intaran doctor and the Intaran Navy chief who was Wilcox’s yeoman watched her walk out. “A bit young to be mayor, isn’t she?”

“She won the election,” the chief answered, not sounding all that convinced.

“She grows on you,” Wilcox said, waving Meav and Grace into the inner office. “How can I help you two?”

“I’m almost afraid to ask, after that,” Grace answered.

“Can’t be worse than what the civilians are hounding me for.”

“Thanks for giving us some time, in any case, Commander,” Meav said, lowering himself into one of the oversized visitor’s chairs.

“No worries, Doctor… or do you prefer Major?”

“Either is fine. You can even call me Jarre, if you like.”

“I’ll leave it at Doctor for now.”

“As you like it, Commander Wilcox. What do you know about our lunar bases?”

“Not a whole lot. The Tzenkethi didn’t leave much of them, really.”

“We used them mostly for research. Each one had a different specialization. Lunabase Five was designed for research into agriculture for potential colonies.”

“In short, Sir,” Grace added, “we need it rebuilt. Once we get to the point where we need to test propagation of whatever genetic changes we do, we’re going to need a place that won’t contaminate the biosphere if it goes wrong.”

Wilcox sat back and pressed a fingertip to his lips. “You’re right. We will need something like that. How soon?”

“We just started checking the planet’s genomes, so it won’t be all that soon. Six months, maybe?” She looked over at Meav for confirmation.

“Yeah,” he added, “that sounds about right.”

Wilcox nodded. “I’ll send it up the line.”

“I guess that’s all we can ask for, Commander,” Grace replied, as she and Meav stood up.

“How soon do you think you’ll have something concrete to report?” Wilcox asked.

“Well,” Meav said, adjusting the fit of his uniform jacket, “we could probably identify the required sequences by comparing twenty or so species, but I’d like to have a more general look at the various agricultural species. Most of the work at this point is just number-crunching, and we’ve got the computer doing that. We could probably have something to report in a few days, a week at the outside.”

Maybe a mission to the lunar bases is a job for a Defiant-class. I've been wanting to see if you put Hammersley to work. I would have suggested Espero but I believe she's still undergoing repairs at this time.

"All of Time and Space; everywhere and anywhere; every star that ever was. Where do you want to start?"

"Geronimo!"

Thanks to FltCpt. Bossco for my Tattok avatar. This is Tattok when he assumed the position of Commander-in-Chief, Starfleet in the year 2411.

Two hours later, Meav looked up from the screen of the microscope and announced, “I could use a drink. How about you?”

“Sounds good to me. What do you have in mind?” Grace answered.

“There’s a bar down the street that has live music. In fact, it’s open mic night.”

“Can’t be worse than some of the stuff I heard back in San Francisco.”

“Come on, then,” Meav said, pulling off his lab coat. “I do want to check on a couple of patients before we leave the hospital, though.”

“Of course. Do you want me to continue until you get back?”

“No. It’ll only take a few minutes. Besides, you worked on one of them this morning.”

Grace’s lab coat quickly joined Meav’s in the closet and the two left the lab moments later.

They met up with a pair of nurses in the elevator.

“I’m not so sure it’s the right decision,” one of them said to the other. “Building a memorial is one thing, but leaving the lunar bases abandoned and calling it one...”

“Excuse me,” Meav asked, “but what was that about the lunar bases?”

“It was on the update channel in the lounge,” she answered. “The Prime Councilor just announced that they’re going to leave the lunar bases abandoned as a memorial.”

“Well, there goes the idea of rebuilding Lunabase Five,” Grace remarked with a sigh.

“He did say that Starfleet would help us build new ones,” the nurse added. “I would assume a new Lunabase Five would be one of them.”

“Let’s hope so. We’re going to need it as soon as we start active genetic engineering.”

They got off on the fourth floor, and quietly made their way to intensive care, where they found the man they had worked on in the Emergency Center that morning, surrounded by a woman Grace assumed to be his wife and two children.

“Doctor,” the woman said, rising from the chair she had pulled to the bedside, “how is he?”

Meav gave a reassuring smile and picked up the data tablet that was attached to the foot of the man’s bed. As he skimmed it, he said, “I’m sure Dr. Faiat told you everything we know at the moment. His injuries were quite severe, but thanks to Ensign Tapper, here, his prognosis is much better than it could have been. We have him sedated right now, but it looks like he’ll be up and around again soon, and back on solid food in... six to eight weeks or so.”

Grace tried to deflect Meav’s praise, but suddenly found herself wrapped in the woman’s arms, with the children adding their own bulk to the group hug.

“Oh, thank you, Ensign! I don’t know what we would have done if we’d lost him.”

“I was just doing what I could, Ma’am,” Grace answered. “I’m not even a doctor.”

The woman held her at arms length, her expression confused. “You’re not?”

“All Starfleet personnel,” Meav explained, “are trained in basic field surgery with their instruments. I haven’t had a chance to practice with them, and I’m not above asking for help. She may be a biochemist, but she’s also an excellent surgical assistant.”

“Then it’s fortunate you were there.”

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, we have another patient to look in on before leaving for the day.”

“Of course. And thank you again, Ensign. We won’t forget what you’ve done.”

Outside, Grace hauled Meav to a stop. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Told them what I did.”

“I’m giving credit where it is due, Grace. If you hadn’t been there this morning, and if you hadn’t known how to run an autosuture, that man would have bled out, and there would have been very little anyone could have done about it. Thanks to you, he has an excellent chance of making a full recovery.” He held her gaze for several seconds before Grace looked down, finally accepting the commendation for what it was. “Now,” the doctor continued, “shall we go see my other patient?”

“Lead on, Doctor.”

The other patient was a middle-aged woman showing the unmistakable signs of basal cell cancer. But it was the distinctive pin she wore on her gown that drew Grace’s eye, since Meav wore an identical one on his uniform.

“Without seeing my old shipmate? Absolutely not!” Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he introduced the two women. “Grace, this is Sub-Colonel Sesha Yenin. She was my commanding officer on the Kateia, and she also served with General Rentoshi.”

“He visited me yesterday. He ordered me to get better so I could help him with all these aliens that are coming to help defend us from the Tzenkethi.”

“Speaking of...Sesha, Ensign Grace Tapper, from Starfleet. She’s the biochemist they sent to help me figure out how to change chetarin into something a little less... intoxicating.”

A voice from the doorway behind them was less than approving. “If the Maker had wanted our plants to grow without chetarin, He would have done it himself.”

Grace turned to see a man of about the same age as Sesha, dressed in what looked like a cross between the robes of a Benedictine monk and a Bajoran prylar.

“It is not for us to tamper with the Maker’s work,” he concluded, stepping across the threshold.

“Please forgive my brother, Ensign Tapper,” Sesha said. “He belongs to an order that does not believe in genetic modification.” She then addressed her brother in a tone that told Grace that it was not a new argument. “It’s certainly better than the alternative, though.”

“Is it? We are commanded to partake of what this world provides, not to change it for the benefit of others.”

“Would you rather see our world burn, Speaker?” Meav asked. “If we cannot find a safe way to remove chetarin from the biosphere, we will have little alternative.”

“The Maker’s work is not to be tampered with.”

“Pay him no mind, Doctor. In time, he will see reason.”

The man made a sound somewhere between frustration and dismissal before walking over to the windows.

“He can frustrate me to no end,” Sesha remarked, “but I love him just the same.”

“How are you feeling?” Meav asked. “Are the new medications working?”

“They seem to be. Those painkillers they sent down from the Kumari are wonderful, and the lesions seem to be shrinking, ever so slowly. I’m still weak and nauseous, though.”

“Well, I’m sure that will improve as you do. I’ll be sure and let Dr. Naria know that the treatment is effective.”

“Thank you, Doctor. It was nice meeting you, Ensign.”

“The honor is mine, Colonel.”

As Meav and Grace headed back to the elevator, he explained the situation. “Sesha was exposed to gamma radiation during our last exploration flight. The cancer she’s suffering now is a delayed reaction to it. I’m quite glad Dr. Naria was able to begin treating her. She’s one of our most experienced ship captains.”

The bar looked more like a lounge to Grace, in that the seating was comfortable and geared toward appreciation of the music and conversation than for hard drinking. Yet it had a bit of an old British or Irish pub about it, as well.

Almost immediately, Naia Faiat spotted them and waved them over.

“Good to see you two.”

“Good to be seen,” Meav answered, lowering himself into one of the large chairs surrounding the low table as Grace lowered herself into a third. “We stopped in to see that patient from this morning. He seems to be holing up well. We also stopped in to see Colonel Yenin.”

“How is she doing? I know you asked one of the Starfleet doctors to help if he could...”

“She’s much better. The treatment Dr. Naria sent down from the Kumari seems to be working as well as it does on most species.”

A moment later, a young woman appeared at the table. “Would any of you folks like anything from the bar?”

“I’ll have a Royal Telanen,” Meav answered.

“Of course, Doctor. What would you like, Ensign?”

“Uh, whatever you have on tap is fine with me.”

“I’ll start you with something light. Would you like to start a tab or will you be arranging for payment through your credit line?”

“Put it on my tab, please,” Faiat answered before Grace could even think of what to say. “She helped save one of my patients this morning. I owe her one. You can set up your own tab later.”

“Very well, Doctor. Would you care for a refill?”

“Yes, thank you. I think we could all go for a communal order of aie, as well.”

“Of course. I’ll bring it right out.”

“Aie?” Grace asked. “What’s that?”

Faiat smiled. “I guess it didn’t translate. It’s a series of appetizers served over the span of several hours. It’s intended to foster conversation while keeping hunger at bay.”

Grace nodded, understanding the concept. “We have something similar on Earth. It’s called Tapas.”

“Interesting.”

Grace was about to say more when a spotlight appeared on the stage, illuminating a middle-aged Intaran whom Grace assumed was either the emcee or owner of the establishment.

“Good evening, and welcome to Open Mic Night!” He waited for the round of applause to abate before continuing. “Our first performer is one of our Starfleet visitors, here to play what she calls ‘techno classical’. Please welcome Jenna Stirling.”

Grace, who had just relaxed into the large, padded chair, sat bolt upright, recognizing the name.

As a techno beat began, a petite, lithe woman wearing her hair in layered pigtails bounded up onto the stage and began playing a violin while moving in ways no Intaran had seen before.

“I say,” Meav remarked, “she’s certainly... limber.”

“I’d throw my back out if I tried moving like that,” Faiat added.

“I did,” Grace countered. “Moves like those aren’t easy, even for someone as thin as I am.”

“I do like the song, though.”

When the song ended, Grace was on her feet, waving at Stirling.

“Jenna!”

“Grace? What are you doing here?” Stirling asked, quickly retrieving her violin case before making her way to where Grace and the two doctors sat. “I thought you were on Deneva, waiting for the Lexington.”

“I got reassigned. What about you? I thought you landed a spot on the Enterprise.”

“I did, but Captain Picard asked for volunteers to go TDY here, and I figured I’d get more flight time. Of course, I’m doing as much administration work as flying...”

Like Grace, Stirling wore an ensign’s uniform, but her undershirt and cuff stripes were red, befitting her job as a shuttle pilot. “Hopefully, we’ll get some new shuttles in soon. Right now, we’re using loaners from the Enterprise and Marshal Martz.”

“That shouldn’t take too long,” Meav remarked. “The general has said there should be a freighter convoy showing up soon. I’m sure some replacement shuttles will be part of that.”

“I sure hope so. I don’t think we’ve met, Major...”

“Oh, sorry. Doctors Meav and Faiat, this is Ensign Jenna Stirling. She was my roommate back at Starfleet Academy. Dr. Meav is my direct CO, as I’ve been assigned to do biomedical research at city hospital.”

“Ah. Nice to meet you both.”

“Care to join us?” Faiat invited, indicating the open chair.

“I’d love to. Thank you.”

As Stirling took the offered seat, the waitress returned with a tray of drinks and the first course of the aie.

Awesome work, John. I was wondering how you were going to introduce Miss Stirling and I have to say that you did it brilliantly. Now I just wonder how you're going to introduce the Sentinel's first officer in 'The Gift'.

Some say that he's eaten raw targ straight from the bone. Others say that he's out-boxed a Terrelian. All we know is that he's THE STIG!

"All of Time and Space; everywhere and anywhere; every star that ever was. Where do you want to start?"

"Geronimo!"

Thanks to FltCpt. Bossco for my Tattok avatar. This is Tattok when he assumed the position of Commander-in-Chief, Starfleet in the year 2411.

“Pack a bag, grab some ID and head for the airport. We have a flight to the capitol in three hours.”

“Has something come up?”

“Rebuilding Lunabase Five has been designated a priority. We have a meeting with Brevik Karan, administrator of the Intaran space program. This is no longer just a research project.”

“Understood. I’m on my way.”

It took only a few seconds for Grace to toss two uniforms into a carry-all. She briefly considered adding her formal uniform, but decided against it.

“Computer, what’s the fastest way to the civilian airport?”

“T mass transit line to airport. Estimated travel time, one hour, thirty-two minutes.”

“Is there a faster way?”

“Taxi to airport. Estimated travel time, twenty-nine minutes.”

“Contact the base,” Grace ordered, “and see if any taxi companies will give me a ride to the airport.”

“Stand by.”

Grace tucked her base-issued ID card under the collar of her uniform undershirt, next to the transit card, as had become her habit.

“A town car has been dispatched to this location. Estimated arrival, twelve minutes.”

“Acknowledged.”

The town car was large, but not as large as the limousine her parents had hired for her high school prom, a tradition dating back centuries.

The driver was what Grace had begun calling ‘a husky’: thin in comparison to the average Intaran, but still quite overweight in comparison to the average Earthborn human. Still, he exuded a friendly efficiency that make it impossible for her first impression not to be a positive one.

“I’m told you need a ride to the airport, Ensign Tapper,” he said as Grace bounded down the steps of the building, just as he opened the back door for her.

“That’s right, but how do you know my name?”

“Your base computer put it on my dispatch screen. Of course, I noticed the pip on your collar, which marks you as an ensign.”

Grace slid into the back seat, allowing the driver to close the door. A few seconds later, he took his own place in the driver’s seat.

“It’s amazing how many people know Starfleet insignia.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” the driver answered. “Military public affairs put up thumbnail bios of all of you Starfleet people. Just the public stuff, of course. For instance, you’re from a place called Eedayhoo?”

“Idaho,” Grace corrected. “A town called Sandpoint, to be exact.”

“Interesting. Is it very big?”

“No, only about ten thousand people. Most work in light manufacturing, but there are a number of agricultural works in the area.”

“But you wanted something more, right?” the driver asked.

“My family had lived there for seventeen generations,” Grace answered. “I wasn’t about to stay. No, I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could, so the day I entered high school, I took the entrance exam to the Starfleet Academy Prep Program. After that, it was four years or preparatory training, and six years at the Academy itself.” She regarded the driver, whom she could see in the rear-view mirror. “What about you?”

“I’m a Citadel native, through and through. I’ve never had much interest in space.”

Meav was there to meet them as they pulled up at the terminal.

“Do you have your ID?”

Grace tapped her collar, where she had tucked the ID card. “Right here.”

“Phaser?”

“I don’t normally carry one.”

“Good. That’s one less thing to get through security.” He then handed her a PADD. “I started jotting down some ideas, but I need you to go over them.”

Grace noticed that Meav had, as had become the custom between them, split the screen to allow the PADD’s processor to do a running translation. While she was no engineer, she did recognize a number of elements that she would have listed as requirements for biochemistry and agricultural labs. But there was one thing missing.

“Where’s the greenhouse?”

“The engineers will be designing it. We just need to come up with some specifications. I’ll be right back.”